


Monsters of the Heart

by FFlove190



Series: Rare Pair Week 2019 [6]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 15:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17880467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFlove190/pseuds/FFlove190
Summary: Vincent and Genesis need to wait out some bad weather.





	Monsters of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Rare Pair week day 6: combo 
> 
> Not gunna lie, I really love Gen x Vin. I think they're the biggest drama queens in the entire ff7 compilation and they would be that couple that is always fighting with each other even though they're madly in love. This thing was supposed to go in a more lighthearted direction, but I think they do pretty good with angst.
> 
> Unbeta;d

“I'm not cold.” Genesis’s words were accompanied by a wet sniff. A heartbeat later, mucus was already dripping out of his nose. 

 

Vincent didn’t say anything. It was useless to point out the obvious with Genesis. Whether you said the sky was blue or water was wet, Genesis would deny. Unless Genesis already set his mind to it, he would argue it for hours. 

 

Sometimes Genesis even agreed with Vincent and did it anyway: just to be contrary.

 

Instead of responding, Vincent just dropped the blankets with a whumpf and puffed a cloud of dust. The stench of age was palpable on it, along with the equally enjoyable mold and mildew odors. 

 

Genesis sneezed.

 

“You say you aren’t cold? Very well.” Vincent proceeded to sit on the pile and cocoon himself in the blankets. “I’ll just use these myself.” 

 

Vincent didn’t really  _ feel _ the cold anymore. The effects of it just happened upon him: a slowness in his joints, an exhaustion in his eyes, a heaviness in his limbs… it was almost pleasant, the lure to sleep away his sins, to silence the voices clamoring in his mind...

 

There was only one problem: a loudmouth, more trouble than he was worth, who never slept when he should have, who was currently refusing to look after himself. 

 

“You!” Genesis stood in a flourish, faster than he should have given the cold. Dust and dirt fell off him, but he didn't notice; Vincent had stopped pointing out the bugs in his hair weeks ago. “You selfish ass! You didn’t even offer me a blanket! You call yourself a gentleman vampire! Share!” 

 

It was always surprising how much  _ passion _ Genesis had. It seemed to be the only thing holding him together: it was in his kisses that tasted like sickness, in the cadence of his words, in the rapid pulse of his heart. Vincent envied it a bit. 

 

Genesis didn’t wait for an answer, he just ripped open Vincent’s arms and climbed onto his lap. 

 

Genesis never waited for an answer. It was like he had lost the skill to be patient. Well: When one could see the end of your life, theyou acted rashly. A lot of people were like that: Vincent had met them (and subsequently killed them) a long time ago. 

 

As for Genesis: the first time Vincent had met him, Genesis hadn’t even said hello. Instead a pair of his copies had yanked Vincent out of his coffin and the rest of the mob proceeded to destroy it. No amount of theatrics could get them to leave (it had always worked with the locals, too). Vincent was then drug around the world by a madman who ranted about vampires and immortality. Genesis had no idea just how much the conversation agreed with him. 

 

“I’m apalled at how  _ lazy _ you are. I thought you fell asleep like the idiot vampire you are.” Genesis grumbled but still made himself comfortable. Vincent’s lap wasn’t an ideal lounge spot - he had been lean even before his transformation, and he’d since found that he didn’t have a need to eat; Genesis himself wasn’t very soft - whatever was there had been turned bony by sickness. Genesis didn’t seem to mind it; truth be told Vincent didn’t mind it either. “Sleeping away your sins. Of course, such a vampire idea. Ridiculous, I say. Ridiculous!”

 

Vincent sighed. He was used to the lashing: it only hurt because Genesis had a point. Instead of ruminating on it (like usual), Vincent wrapped his arms around Genesis. Genesis was as cold as Vincent was; it wouldn’t do to let him fall ill again. Battling even the weakest illnesses in Genesis's state was, well, all Vincent could do was watch without the knowledge of supplies to aid. It was a terrible thing to watch. It made Vincent wonder, everyday, if this day would be Genesis’s last. 

 

“I bet you’ve even forgotten why we’ve come here, too.” Genesis humphed and jabbed his elbow into Vincent’s gut. Vincent didn't day anything because Genesis had the pretense of arranging himself again. “You called me crazy for chasing down scientists and clones. But everything  _ I _ do is based on logical assumptions drawn from evidence.  _ You _ on the other hand… you’re just chasing myths!”

 

In moments like this, Vincent could see the man Genesis used to be. Genesis was witty, brilliant, a force to be reckoned with, with strength behind his stubborness, and passion burning just as brightly as he was now. 

 

“Is that how you became a Turk, darling?” Genesis relaxed more fully into Vincent. “Chasing fables and legends? Or was that just your joke of a hobby?” Genesis didn’t leave Vincent any room to comment - he rarely did. “Regardless, we have places to be. Not sitting around in this dingy house.”

 

“We’re snowed in.” Vincent offered. There was a blizzard on the way. They didn’t have the necessary supplies or equipment to do hard travel in this weather, and this had been the first shelter Vincent could find. 

 

“Snow? Nonsense. It’s not even cold.” Genesis pressed tighter to Vincent, trying to suck what meager warmth he produced. He was shivering. 

 

Vincent wondered if Genesis had always been this contrary. Times like this it seemed like a quirk of Genesis’s personality. But the other times, Vincent wondered… was it the tickle of madness that came from being shackled in a degrading body?

 

“I’m cold.” Vincent said instead. 

 

“You’re  _ always _ cold. It’s just how you are. A monster like me I…” Genesis shook his head. Vincent could see the glassiness in his eyes. “ _ My friend, do you fly away now? To a world that abhors you and I? _ Why did we come here if there’s nothing to be found.” 

 

“There might be something. All rumors start with a grain of truth.” Vincent pressed his head into Genesis’s. 

 

Vincent wanted a cure for what ailed him. Vincent hadn’t asked Lucrecia to save him, hadn’t asked to survive past the confrontation, and was too afraid to see Sephiroth after his failings. Vincent would gladly seek release. But he couldn’t just… leave Genesis. 

 

Not when Genesis moved something in Vincent’s heart that he didn’t want to admit. 

 

“You’re undying.” Genesis started struggling in the blankets. Not nxhaustion, cold, hunger, nor illness could smother Genesis’s spirit. Vincent was starting to suspect even death wouldn’t. “We should be studying  _ you  _ and your immortality not trying to find the incarnation of a goddess.”

 

Vincent held Genesis as he struggled. If it hadn’t been so cold, Vincent would have let Genesis fly around and release his pent up frustrations by blowing up whatever he came across. Then when Genesis was finished, Vincent would have put him to bed and watched over him, trying to figure out what to do next. 

 

“I thought you liked your goddess.” 

 

The goddess, a goddess, his goddess - it didn’t matter. The word, whoever it referred to, was one of Genesis’s greatest weaknesses. It didn’t cow him into obeying, but it helped him through his darkest episodes. 

 

“I  _ do _ . And I am beloved by her. But you - you can’t just.” Genesis huffed as he tangled himself in the blankets. “You should share your secrets instead of capturing me.”

 

A fluff of Genesis’s hair went in Vincent’s nose. It smelled of dirt.

 

A few towns back, Vincent had seen a picture of the man Genesis used to be. Genesis Rhapsodos, Red General of Shinra, SOLDIER First. Genesis had been smirking, just as haughty as Vincent knew him. But he had looked healthy: his skin pale, but vibrant with a splash of freckles, his eyes bright with mischief, and his hair like a ring of fire. 

 

It had ached to look at. 

 

Genesis still looked like himself, of course, but his hair was fully grayed, his flesh sunken with malnutrition, and his hollow eyes bright with feverish madness. Vincent still couldn’t calculate just how much degredation had stolen from Genesis. But Vincent wanted to get it back.

 

“I didn’t capture you.” Vincent flicked a bug off the blanket before Genesis saw. 

 

Genesis didn’t notice. Genesis was far too busy huffing and fussing until he got comfortable again. Vincent wasn’t sure if Genesis was pouting or had simply forgotten what they had been talking about. It happened sometimes. 

 

Vincent would have given his demons to Genesis if that would make him happy. Some small part of Vincent was certain that Genesis would dominate them in ways Vincent never would be able to. But Vincent didn’t understand how he ended up with them, much less how he could give them away. If he knew how, he wouldn't be in this mess.

 

“Ugh when was the last time you bathed.” Genesis made a disgusted noise. “Your cloak smells old.”

 

Vincent didn't point out that the smell was coming from all of them: Vincent, the blankets, and Genesis. None of them had bathed in a long while. 

 

“My cloak  _ is  _ old.” Vincent said instead. 

 

“I would look better in it.” Genesis huffed and arranged Vincent’s arms around his waist. “First Sephiroth stealing my glory and then you stealing my color. And then people are daft enough to call  _ my _ trenchcoat a cape! Tragedy.” 

 

Vincent snorted. 

 

“Oh?” Genesis’s voice dipped low, and he pulled Vincent’s hand lower. “What was that? You’re imagining it right now, aren’t you?” Genesis’s voice dipped low. “Me, naked save for you precious cloak, standing over you,  _ marking _ you.” 

 

Vincent swallowed against the voices in his head - the ones that raged at the smell of his lust. It would be easy to give in: Genesis was already right there and Vincent was prepared. They could do it gently and carefully. Genesis never wanted it that way but always enjoyed it anyway. 

 

Vincent shuffed his arousal. Against his chest, Genesis was falling asleep. Vincent could feel the relaxation in Genesis’s shoulders, the way his breathing was falling into a steady, slow rhythm. 

 

“Go to sleep.” Vincent pressed a kiss to the side of Genesis’s head. 

 

“No.” Genesis said it like a petulant kid. And, just like a petulant kid refusing to be put down for a nap, he promptly fell asleep.

 

Vincent laid his head atop Genesis’s and listened to the wind howl and Genesis snore. Genesis’s pulse was slow and steady. It was enough. For now.

 

When Vincent closed his eyes, the voices in his head clamored to the surface: ‘ _ Go to Minerva _ ,’ they said. Vincent hoped a goddess of legend could cure Genesis. They were running out of optons.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [By and Down the River](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101819) by [Pixeled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled)




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